I suck in a breath through my nostrils and cup her cheek with my hand. “You will be taken care of well, I promise.”
She takes a deep breath too. “But I’m yourwifenow. What does that even entail? Am I some kind of Mafia wife now? Because I know you’re a mobster.”
I laugh. It’s not like I hide it, but she makes it sound like I do.
“What am I supposed to do? What’s my job?” she asks. “I have no clue what it means to be a wife. Except, well …” Her cheeks turn even redder, and I get the sense she means something entirely different right now. “What do you want from me? I’m not going to be a perfect little wifey, ready for you to claim, just to please you on your every whim.”
I tilt my head and smile at her, narrowing my eyes.
She thinks I want to use her for her body, doesn’t she? Of course not, I’m not that kind of guy. I won’t take from her what she’s not willing to give to me.
“I won’t force myself on you if that’s what you think. I’m not that kind of man, Tesoro.”
She visibly relaxes again, and the panic that had been taking over her tensed muscles and body slowly dissipates. “But … it’s our wedding night, right?”
I shrug. “And?”
“I almost thought you wanted … a traditional marriage.”
She sucks on her bottom lip, and it draws my attention briefly. But I still can’t stop staring into those gorgeous eyes that lure me closer and closer to her. And even though I’m so close that I can smell her scent, she still won’t push me away.
God, those beautiful lips. I could just about kiss them.
But she doesn’t want me.
She shudders in place, and I pull back and straighten my jacket along with my sense of self-control.
Goddammit, Matteo. You almost did it.
I shake my head.
What the fuck is happening to me?
“Will you let me go if I let you kiss me?” she whispers seductively.
My eyes widen, and I immediately lean back and stand. “Sarah will help you back to your room.” I turn around.
“What? No. Matteo, let me out of here.” She stomps on the floor with a single foot. “Right now. Or I swear to God …”
“You’ll what?” I retort.
“Don’tunderestimate me,” she hisses.
I ignore her and waltz off without taking another glance, worried that if I do, I might not be able to stop myself fromkissing her, anyway. She knows, and she uses it as a weapon. Smart girl.
I go back to my room and sit down on my mattress, staring at the ceiling above me.
I almost let myself go there. And for what, a quick kiss? A taste of what I can’t have? She tried to buy her way to freedom with a kiss. She’ll never love me, not after what I did. It’s meaningless. But then why do I want to kiss her so badly every time I’m near her?
I run my fingers through my hair and groan out loud, leaning back while I slowly close my eyes and picture her in front of me. I still remember that dress she wore at Club Triton, how beautifully it fit around her curves, and how easily I would have let her tempt me to take her with me, right then and there, if only she hadn’t run off. Maybe I should have.
Fuck.
My dick tents my pants as my mind wanders off to our kiss at the wedding Lucio orchestrated. The wedding I stole from him, just like his wife, and for some reason, the thought of her lips on mine makes my cock so damn hard that I have to unzip to free it from its restraints.
I groan out loud while I arch my back and begin to rub myself relentlessly, trying to take control of these animalistic urges coursing through my veins.
Fuck, I should stop, but I can’t.
